So Much Trying To Waylay

So much more difficult than first supposed
to stay with that which sustains us, keeps us good,
as if so much is trying to waylay us.

And harder still to find the innocence within
the many layers of living, as if each
membrane of skin protects us against
the other; yet so feebly. We’re so different

and yet so similarly together.

We’re old before we learn what youth held,
or could have held if we had known.
So many moments so rarely celebrated in their time.

We’re offered only little space for our performance
that most of us come wholly unprepared.


23.40
6.12.03